


The Trail

by Lyzellai



Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/stay night - All Media Types
Genre: Minor Character Death, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:01:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27579530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyzellai/pseuds/Lyzellai
Summary: "We do not live to create meaning, we live to find the meaning of our lives."Fujimaru Ritsuka confronts some thoughts about herself and a truth to life that someone once taught to her. A torch is passed from one history to another, leading onward to a future of less fighting and bloodshed.
Relationships: Fujimaru Ritsuka & Solomon | Caster, Fujimaru Ritsuka/Solomon | Caster, Romani Archaman & Fujimaru Ritsuka, Romani Archaman/Fujimaru Ritsuka, Romani Archaman/Gudako, Solomon | Caster/Gudako
Kudos: 17





	The Trail

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by The Trail, a Fate/Grand Order: Babylonia soundtrack. What is human history and how does god relate to mankind?
> 
> Also another way of saying, "We miss you, Romani. Come back to our Chaldea, forever waiting."

Hidden away in the far corners of consciousness was a single speck of ember, burning through thousands of lifetimes. That ray of hope took root in a single world as a little seedling, subtly embedding itself to the great collections of Alaya. 

That single existence glowed far before mankind had a will to call its own. During a time when life served under the whims of god, humans prostrated themselves in a silent plea for salvation. It was god's mercy to bestow knowledge upon the masses, and in return have their names sung in tunes. Stories of great feats were praised and songs played in respect of each account.

Even so, wars waged by humans did not cease. Natural death had been uncommon during that age. Those who were touched by disease suffered for years, aware of the deterioration that ravaged their physical body over time. Sometimes life was taken at the hands of an enemy, or fellow man, whichever one held the most scrutiny against the other. There was no escaping death; those who lived would be haunted by the constant plague and famine that loomed over the prehistoric Earth.

Life at its beginning is bound to death at its demise. 

He was a being closest to godhood. He was the one who had the Clairvoyance of the Past and Future—a divine being who had the power to save humanity, yet he merely observed the world on his throne. He sat on that isolated throne, alone in that space with only his thoughts. Even his shadows could not comprehend what went through the being's mind. And so they drowned in their own contempt, harboring a dark hatred at the king who saw the suffering of humanity and did not save them.

An eternity later, that man was nothing more than a memory. It lived in the consciousness of a single human—not as the man who served God, or the wise and all-powerful King of Mages, but simply as a smiling face to return to after fixing a broken world. Even as they were gone, the warmth of his existence continued to dwell within her small chest, and that was enough to keep him alive.

_We do not live to create meaning, we live to find the meaning of our lives._

Each person wishes to choose their own fate, while some simply wonder how they wish to approach it. One who searches for meaning in life contemplates their own demise, and the other who lives to the fullest accept that life will end. Its ephemeral essence lies in a matter of its limitations, where sentience such as god cannot determine their own fate and man cannot endure an eternity. 

This single truth was the one thing she clutched onto so tightly, as if to shelter from the unforgiving winds raging against the world.

Perhaps it was the sun that was vanishing into nightfall unexempt even in the lands of paradise. Light will vanish into the darkness, and darkness will be illuminated by light in a never-ending cycle. End is predetermined from the moment life dawns upon all beings to the moment the coldness casts the earth in a spell.

Strangely enough, these thoughts did not cross her mind often. No matter how much death touched her soul, or how the path led her to follow a trail of mirages in its wake, she knew that the sacrifices made by the silhouettes of human history forged a path for the living. Ritsuka became too familiar with the tightness of her chest, burning as cool as blue flames, while everything those hands held vanished into flickers of gold. It had become her resolve, and the reason why she planted that foot forward. To promise that there was meaning in every moment before the inevitable arrives. 

Such was the essence of Ritsuka Fujimaru, the one who had been dubbed as Humanity’s Final Master. In exchange for her faith, these Spirits lend their powers to pave a path that only the living can walk. Only they had the power to stand up and fight. With that foolhardy courage, struggle against fate until a crack forms in the predestined cage. Both ally and foe, vestiges of legends marked upon the past, acknowledged the average yet extraordinary human that was Fujimaru Ritsuka. Surely whatever the decision she made was the right one. 

The journey has not ended yet, but the voice tells her that those mirages will leave when all is finished. Established forms of life only exist in a temporary timeline, and their ephemeral lives will vanish from reality. The World will recall its warriors upon the completion of their purpose. When that time comes, Ritsuka will be all alone in this world, with nothing more than remnants of the warmth they once fought to protect.

Ritsuka Fujimaru held no qualms against that end. If that was what the world would demand for the story of this human, then so be it. Humanity’s survival and progress to the future was worth much more than a single life.

Though, it would be a lie to say it wasn’t sad. Death’s grasps itself were not cold—it was an acquaintance’s embrace, and the cold would take away any lingering fear. It was the thought of death where none existed; in a place not of solitude but of loneliness. That was the scariest and most painful part of it all.

Perhaps the World had a different ending in mind. Cases where it deemed one worthy enough to human history were special, but not improbable. She would relive the days when she fought together with her friends. However, she would have no humanity to speak of, nor to become a Master. Was such a fate worth another life?

The King of Mages and Humanity’s Final Master . . . Anyone would laugh at the analogy. Each of these specters left a mark on the sands of time in their own unique ways. One created meaning in life while the other offered it upon their final act as legend. In this little illusion of the sun offering the sky to the moon, the will of light was passed down to its next reflector.

_No matter how much one struggles to search for meaning in one’s life, it is only until the end where they find its value. Therefore nothing is meaningless. Humanity’s fight does not end here._

  
  



End file.
